


In the corner

by Melancholady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Power Dynamics, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melancholady/pseuds/Melancholady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first GoT fanfic and English is not my native language. My apologies for any typo that I could have overlooked!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Watching

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first GoT fanfic and English is not my native language. My apologies for any typo that I could have overlooked!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life can make you lonely. Power can make you lonely. Intelligence can make you lonely. Unbearable loneliness can make you do very odd things.

Standing in a corner of the room, the girl watched silently the man as he filled page after page of parchments with his usual crisp and neat script. Everything that was happening on this side of the Seven Kingdoms and certainly most of what was going on elsewhere, troops movements, battle orders, communication, trade, the life and death of countless faceless common people, soldiers or bannermen, came from that room, that table, that dark and commanding man.

Her position and situation had left her in a kind of strange solitary confinement. She was no prisoner: no cell, no chains were restraining her, but since she was serving him, she was _bound_ to this man, not allowed to stray very far for very long. This was her curse as it was her protection. Her age, gender and personal history also made it impossible and her unwilling to create any sort of relation with the perverted and twisted souls dwelling in that dark and horrendous place.

So it was that she could not leave him and had to gravitate around him, focusing her energy and sharp wits at what she could see and hear around her. She would force herself to remember names and faces, orders and strategies, suggestions and decisions. The list of people she wanted dead grew with each passing day but she was buying her time, confident that the tide would turn.

The man, _that_ man was her biggest challenge. He embodied all that she hated and was directly or indirectly the cause of her suffering and grief. Yet she had never met a spirit so fierce or intelligence so bright in all of her young years. Certainly, her father had been a clever and smart man but to her chagrin, she knew deep inside that he paled in comparison to what _that_ man could plan, organize and see in situations and people.

This keen and ruthless intelligence, this relentless drive to reach his goals, this remorseless ability to crush and overcome all that would stand before him made them a sort of kindred souls given how hers had hardened over the past years. She would cringe at such thoughts but could not deny their accuracy.

Some would hesitate calling him a _man_ since one could often doubt whether any spark of _humanity_ still burned inside him. All who had stood, sit, kneeled, crawled, beg in his presence had had reasons to dispute his ability to show mercy or to feel simply inclined to care about the fate of those who held no direct interest or reward to him and to his grand plans for his legacy.

The girl knew better, or at least she believed she did. Standing at his side, serving him wine day after day, week after week for so many moons, no _years_ now, she had seen the usual and worst of him every day but also, now and then, some flicker of something else. It was nothing, really, but taken together it had created another picture in her mind. A softening of his frown, a quirk of his mouth, a lingering hand, a thoughtful glance, a brushing shoulder, a drop in his harsh and domineering voice when ordering her around when they were alone: all of this and then some, she had seen and felt. In her mind, it showed that something was alive, buried under layers of barely controlled rage and spite.

But what could it mean for her? And why being affected by it? She didn’t know if she was reading these gestures correctly. She hadn’t enough experience in the courting ways of men and women since her exposure to this kind of things had been mostly brutal and terrible, as far from romance and caring as the moon was from the Earth. To be truthful, she also dared not push actively in that direction and test these dark waters because she could not trust her own reactions.

She was alone, so alone, and she had suffered so much, seen so many horrors and looked for so long and deep in the eyes of true evil, that she knew painfully that a part of her craved human touch, physical interaction and a kind of emotional comfort, whatever the form. She was young but no longer a child, whether emotionally or physically, but yet she _longed_.

She could not care less for the age and physical appearance of that man even though she could plainly see that he was still strong, fit and of course powerful. No, it was rather the deep-set conviction that of all the persons she knew and surrounded her, even her scattered family, _he_ would understand and know her best. This growing understanding, coupled with the signs she _thought_ she saw coming from him, made it increasingly frustrating to remain motionless next to him.

Some days, when she was feeling a little too insecure about her future, a little too tired of the perpetual lie she was living, a little less anchored in the harsh reality of her life, she could see herself extend her hand and brush his, put her fingers on his lined and terrible face set in a perpetual frown. She could imagine burying hers in his strong neck and inhale his clean and pleasant smell. She could dream that she would be the one making him relax and let his guard down. She could believe that she could drape her body over his and forget for a few hours about how bleak and violent her life was.

She would be in the arms of his family’s tormentor but at the same time in the hands of the only person who could _respect_ her wits, _understand_ her mindset, provide her with _protection_ against the predators who would tear her apart and _weapons_ against her enemies. Her body and mind cried for relief and some days, even her iron will and ruthless self-control had difficulties keeping them at bay. She knew, however, that this would never happen because he could never find out who she truly was.

Without that knowledge, she was certain that he would never see her otherwise than as a dutiful yet mindless low-born servant, nice for a quick release on his table but nothing else, nothing more. She didn’t understand why he wasn't acting upon his lust since no one and nothing would stand in his way if he decided to have her. Because of this odd fact, she wasn’t so sure that she was reading him properly and it fuelled her doubts and frustration.

As she was standing in her corner, ruminating on those wild yet frustrating dreams, she tried to quench the tension and heat that were slowly creeping from her core at the image that his hands and lips on her body would create. Her mind otherwise busy, she didn’t realize how tired she had become and that her blank mask was cracking around the edges.

So it was purely by accident that a deep sigh, full of unspent desire, escaped her lips.

Her eyes unfocused, watching dust dancing in the evening light pouring from the windows, she didn’t realize that the quill had stopped running and didn't see the sharp turn of his head in her direction.


	2. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos!

 - “Are you bored, girl?” the man asked in a low and flat voice.

Her head whipped back towards him, blocking the rising panic that she felt building inside. She couldn’t be so careless!

\- “Of course not, my Lord Hand”, she replied steadily, keeping her eyes lowered to the ground, as much an outward sign of respect as a way to keep him from catching her distress.

She made three steps towards the table, a flask of wine ready to be served.

\- “So what could be so annoying that you would make so much noise?” he continued, in a deceptively calm tone.

Even if he was not overtly angry, she knew him well enough not to believe for one instant that he was happy with her breaking his concentration.

\- “Nothing worth wasting your time, my Lord,” she answered with as much deference as she could muster even if it made her nauseous.  
  
Unfortunately, he was not in the mood to let it go.

\- “Humor me,” he ordered, his voice dropping to chilling levels, having no patience with deflecting tactics and servants who could not obey simple orders.

 _Stupid, stupid girl! Stupid, stupid lack of control!_ Had she been alone, she would have banged her head on the large table. Instead, she inhaled sharply and replied carefully.

\-  “I was only… reflecting… on the stupidity of those who believe in… sentiment.”

She was treading on dangerous waters but she knew that it was safer to give him a half-truth even if it would make her sound ridiculous. 

He turned completely towards her, leaning his upper body in her direction like a predator smelling his prey but with the same amount of disdain as a lion considering a goose.

\- “Is that so. I would agree with your basic assumption but, tell me, who are you to decide who is stupid and who is not, little girl?”

 _Arya! Lady Arya Stark from the North, heir to Winterfell, the she-wolf who will have her revenge and bring down your filthy House!_ She shouted in her mind, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground lest he would see the anger and frustration flashing there.

\- “No one, my Lord Hand”, she answered as submissively as possible, looking at him from below her eyelashes, crushing down the urge to fidget and grimace.

He remained silent for a few heartbeats, watching her intently as if he was trying hard to catch some whispers just outside his hearing range, and turned back to his table.

\- “Indeed. You are only my cupbearer and you should do well not to forget it. Bring me some wine,” he ordered sharply, turning back to his deck.

She complied immediately, praising herself when she saw that her hands were steady and her breath regular when she presented him with his cup. It would not do to show weakness to this man, even if at some deep, obscure level, _he_ was her weakness. She didn’t dare raising her eyes towards his face, afraid that they would still reflect her inner tension.

However, when his large hand slowly but confidently covered hers on the cup, she froze, her heart doing wild leaps in her chest. When he spoke, his voice was once again flat and distant but she could very well hear the hidden threat.

\- “Now, after all this time, you should know better than that. You should know that I don’t stand liars. So, girl, tell me. What were you really thinking about, over there, in that dark corner of yours, in this quick mind of yours, behind these grey… wolf eyes of yours, hm?”

For a moment, she forgot to breathe and felt her whole body tense, like before a fight. For she knew that her own personal battle had just begun.


	3. Bluffing

Silence took hold of the room. Neither of them moved, except for his hand tightening over hers. He was not hurting her, at least not yet, but she couldn’t wriggle her hand out of his iron grip. He was simply keeping her in place, close, much too close to him for comfort.

She could hear his regular breathing, she could smell him and see from the corner of her eyes the fine anger lines around his mouth. All of her senses were overloaded by his sheer domineering presence. She had stood near him in the past but never like that. She had felt his power before, but it was the first time that she could physically feel it on her person.

At the same time, her mind was buzzing, thoughts flashed while she tried to make _the_ split decision that would avoid bringing doom over her head… and see her head, precisely, roll on the floor. Danger and fear should have made her knees weak and her eyes leak but instead she only felt a kind of twisted excitation and longing. She prayed to all gods that he misunderstood the reason behind the tremors coursing through her. She pushed these troubling thoughts far away to focus on the most pressing issue.

Had she understood correctly? Did he _know_ who she was or was she only reading him badly, once again, seeing what she wanted to see, nothing else? Could it be just a coincidence? Could there ever be any coincidence when it came to what this man said or did?

In two heartbeats she knew that she had to concede something, to admit her fault, because _he was right_ , she had lied. But some truths were more dangerous than others. She could still get out of it if she played this game right and if he felt honesty in his words, even if it cost her a large amount of pride and certainly her position.

Trying to ignore the pit growing in her stomach, she forced herself to relax. Any second now, he would tire of waiting for her reply and would retaliate in a way or another.

-        “My apologies, my Lord,” she replied in a low voice, almost a hush. “I meant no disrespect, I really thought that telling you the full truth wasn’t important in this case.”

His hand squeezed hers harder and she managed not to wince. He remained silent. She took another breath and tried to tap into the forbidden and dark thoughts that kept plaguing her mind in order to sound convincing.

-        “By other people, I actually meant… myself,” she swallowed nervously and this was not faked. “I bemoaned my own stupidity at… desiring… someo-, er, some _thing_ … I cannot have, nor even think about, and for a lot of bad reasons at that. I am just a stupid servant, my Lord, with too many stupid thoughts.”

That was not as forthcoming as she could have made it, but she still had to broadcast some kind of shyness for the sake of property, even if she couldn’t care less about that concept. He did and that was the point.

She prepared herself for what would come. She was decided to go down that road as far as possible, just to avoid revealing how much his remark about her eyes had rattled her and had stricken too close to home.


	4. Confessing

The pressure of his hand turned painful. He pulled her even closer to him but didn’t move his face, making it an awkward embrace. He continued to look straight ahead, maybe at the same distant spot on the table that she was focusing on, but now his mouth was right next to her ear and his breath was tingling her skin.

-        “You are many things, girl, but not stupid,” he growled and she could almost feel the sound vibrating in his torso and her head. “Do not take me for a fool by trying to persuade me of the contrary. It is time to drop the act of the witless brat.”

She briefly closed her eyes. OK, the stupid servant had to go and fast. But had he put a name on her yet? And why keeping on with this charade? What kind of twisted punishment did he have in mind?

-        “My apolo…”, she began to repeat but realized her mistake when she was immediately cut off.  


-        “Enough with this nonsense!” his sudden burst of anger was made even more terrible that his voice remained low but acquired an iron edge.

At the same time, he pulled her again and twisted her effortlessly so that she would now face him, stuck between his legs and chair in front of her and the heavy table at her back. The cup crashed on the ground and in the silence, it sounded like an explosion.

It took her everything to stay on foot and not to crumble. She could not help feeling nauseous and she was certain that color had drained from her face. There was no alternative left, she had to look at him in the eye and what she saw there made her cringe. It was the first time she was the direct recipient of the Lion’s angry glare and she knew older men who couldn’t face it.

He leaned towards her and put his hand under her chin. She was trapped and she couldn’t imagine a scenario where she would get out of it without bruising or worse. If only she could convince her body that it was actually a _bad_ scenario and that her current predicament was _dire_ , that would make it much easier to handle. But again, there was something in her who maybe not enjoyed what was going on, but at least was excited about it.

-        “I didn’t request your worthless apologies, cupbearer, I demand the truth! You will stop playing games with me at once, I will not tolerate it one moment more!”

His control was slipping and this was no good news for her. It also hinted at something else, more serious and out of character than merely disciplining the misbehavior of some servant.

Yet, the simple fact that he called her cupbearer, and not by her actual name, gave her some kind of hope and so, stepping on this weak ladder, this wobbling chair, she decided to counter-attack, with the goal of destabilizing him long enough to step out of the cage.

-        “In truth, my Lord, if I respectfully may say,” she replied as calmly as she could, her eyes never leaving his, “I do believe that having improper thoughts towards one’s lord, imagining improper situations with him and wishing for a chance at intimacy would be called very stupid by anyone, including his lordship. However…” she added, almost as an afterthought, “I confess that ‘sentiment’ would be a lie here. ‘Weakness of the flesh’ is certainly more appropriate.”

Focused on her damning and too honest tirade, she had overlooked that such a speech would contribute to shatter the ‘low-born’ image that was already hanging by a thread.

His hand squeezed painfully her chin but, again, his face didn’t move and she couldn't read him. Ever so slowly, he got closer to her face and she couldn’t help but lean back towards the table until her back painfully protested.


	5. New Battlefield

-        “Yes, that's what I thought,” he merely said, his voice once again calm, as if her confession had drained the stirring exasperation out of it.

However her ears rang as if he had shouted directly at her face. How could have he… suspected? Was this true or only a bluff to drive her mad?  


-        “But again,” he continued before she could react, his tone dropping to new lows, in a grumble that was almost a whisper, “you are in error, because this is not stupid. Dangerous, yes, because you know nothing of this game. Risky, yes, because you _presume_ too much and you are clearly out of your depth. But stupid? No.”

And before she could even begin to come up with some satisfactory, useful and witty reply, he put an end to the battle and to her useless counter-attack in one swift move, as sharp and efficient as a sword strike: his mouth crashed on hers.

Her mind went blank, unable to handle how quickly and surprisingly the situation had turned on her. It was supposed to be her move, her extraordinary, unexpected, out-of-nothing move. And now, it was _his_ mouth that was sucking her lips, his body that was crushing hers against the table, definitively trapping her.

When she gasped out of sheer shock, he quickly made use of this opportunity to invade her and she didn’t think twice about it. Too many things were happening at the same time in her mind: relief at the fact that he hadn’t guessed her true identity; anger at being rendered so helpless and having being effectively manipulated; incredulity at understanding that she had been right all along; but the most overwhelming feeling was this incredible wave that rushed throughout her body, making her grasp his doublet with both hands as if it was the only thing that would keep her ashore.

He groaned in her mouth as a reaction and this sounded a little like victory to her. All her pent-up frustration, fear, anger and powerlessness combined together to fuel her arousal and excitement. This was no romance; there was no positive emotion or feeling that sustained her need and his actions looked more like a form of punishment, of discipline, than anything else. At some point, she had longed for comfort but right now, there would be none. It was not the time for that.

She had lost the first round but another kind of battle had started, now that both opponents had agreed on the terms and the battlefield. She was determined not to lose it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one was short but I wanted it done. A special kudo to those who can find the reference to one of the most OMG moments that you can find on Tumblr (Kill.Me.Now.). I simply *had* to do it ;)


End file.
